Masquerade
by imadinosawr
Summary: Hermione and Draco have to plan the masquerade ball, and both meet people there. But who are their mysterious partners? And can the find them again?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: _Ah, a new fanfic… -sweat drop- I'm actually really, really, very, really stuck on the others, and I had this idea and I wanted to write it before it got away. So yes. Please stick with me on the others… :D _

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Hermione looked at the big clock on the library wall. It was nearly nine o'clock and light outside was fading fast. Madam Pince was busy writing at her desk. Sighing, Hermione stood up and shoved her books into her bag. She had finished all her homework, read up on all of her subjects and written a few extra essays for extra credit. Now, she was totally and completely out of work. She slouched towards the library doors, mumbling a "good bye" to Madam Pince, who merely nodded in response, and made her way along the corridors towards the Gryffindor common room. Two Hufflepuff first years pushed past her, making her stumble, talking excitedly about something. Hermione managed to catch a few words.

"They're really planning a masquerade ball?" one asked the other.

"That's what Annie told me, but you know how Annie is," the other replied.

"Are we allowed to take dates?" the first asked.

"I think so," the second said before adding, "I really want to ask Jason, but…

They had scurried away before Hermione had a chance to find out why it was a bad idea to ask Jason to the ball.

The ball…

Was there really going to be a masquerade ball? Hermione was sure Ginny would know. She headed to the Gryffindor common room and told the portrait the password before hurrying through the portrait hole and looked around for Ginny. She was sitting by the fire, entwined with and kissing the life out of Harry.

"I take it Ron's not around, then?" Hermione asked, sitting down on the sofa next to Ginny and Harry.

Ginny came up for air and shook her head at Hermione, grinning. Harry turned to Hermione, annoyed that he'd been interrupted. Hermione ignored his glare and shook her hair out of her face before turning to Ginny.

"Are they planning a masquerade ball?" she asked and Ginny's eyes widened.

"Apparently they are," Harry said, rolling his eyes as Ginny grinned eagerly.

"Well, that's what I've been told, anyway," she said, nodding enthusiastically. "I'm so excited! Harry and I are going to tell each other what our masks will look like so we can find each other."

"Sounds like fun," Hermione said, dreading to see them together at the ball. She was about to add something but Ginny was already chatting away.

"… and that way, Ron won't murder us because he won't know its Harry and me! It's ideal, really. I mean, everyone knows except Ron and I don't like keeping secrets from him and…"

Hermione let her mind wander, Ginny's voice mumbling in the background. What would she wear to the ball? She'd have to buy a new dress, but she knew she had a mask somewhere. And then there was the make up and hair… Maybe she could get Ginny to help her. She glanced back at Ginny and she was still talking animatedly, not noticing that Hermione had stopped listening.

"… and your mask has to be the colour of your house, but other than that, you can wear whatever you want —"

"What was that?" Hermione interrupted.

"Your mask has to be the colour of your house, like Gryffindor is red and Ravenclaw is blue, but that's the only dress code. I've seen a red velvet one with white feathers on, it looks amazing…" Ginny was off again.

Hermione sighed, not wanting to wear a mask that showed her house colours. She already had a plain black sequin mask and was planning on wearing it. She decided she could find something red to decorate it with. She was tugged back to reality by Ginny shouting her name.

"Hermione! Were you even listening to a thing I've said?" Ginny asked, scowling.

"Of course," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. She caught Harry's eye and he grinned, knowing she hadn't really been listening.

Suddenly, Ginny and Harry sprang apart. Ginny slid to the floor and pulled a stray textbook onto her lap, pretending to be reading it. Hermione looked behind her and saw Ron coming through the portrait hole.

"You're past curfew," Hermione accused as he sat down next to Harry.

Ron shrugged, a crooked grin creeping over his face. He looked to his sister.

"Ginny, why are you reading a Herbology textbook? You don't take Herbology," he said, looking over her shoulder. Ginny's cheeks flushed momentarily.

"I thought it might come in useful," she said quickly. "You never know when you need a bit of plant knowledge."

Ron furrowed his forehead, looking perplexed but he sat back and left the subject alone.

"Well," Hermione said, standing up and stretching. "It's been fun, but I have to go back to my dorm now."

"We'll see you at breakfast, 'Mione," Harry replied, bidding her good bye.

She quickly hugged them all and went back out of the portrait hole. She hurried to the Head dorms and slipped inside when the portrait let her in.

Hermione had been sent her letter telling her she was Head Girl over the summer. Her parents were delighted but she was far from. Draco Malfoy – Prince of Slytherin and Hogwarts' Sex God – was Head Boy. She groaned inwardly at the thought, collapsing onto the plush sofa infront of the fire. They had to share a common room and that meant dealing with him every single day. Hermione didn't know what had made Dumbledore to give Malfoy the job as Head Boy, but she suspected the old fool was finally loosing it. She looked into the crackling fire in the hearth. She hadn't argued with him properly yet, but they had had a few short fights over nothing that important. They tended to stay out of each other's way. Hermione's attention was captured by the notice board on the wall next to the portrait hole. It was glowing gold and a parchment was slowly appearing on it. This was how teachers communicated with the Head Boy and Girl and they were usually first to know about upcoming events.

"I wonder…" Hermione said, standing up and going to retrieve the new notice. She smiled to herself as her eyes flitted over it. "Just as I thought."

It was a notice about the masquerade ball from Professor Dumbledore, informing the Heads that they needed to plan it. Hermione jumped at the chance – it was the first ball they'd had to plan this year and she was excited about pulling everything together. She rolled it up neatly as the portrait hole opened. Malfoy stepped in, looking ruffled. Hermione glanced up at him and her top lip pulled to one side in disgust. His lips were swollen and his gelled hair had been messed up – he'd been with Pansy.

"You're past curfew, Malfoy," she said conversationally as he flung himself down on the sofa.

"Does it look like I care, Mudblood?" he sneered. "I'm Head Boy, I can do whatever I want and the likes of _you_ can't stop me."

"If you'd remove yourself from your own arse, you'd realise we have a new notice," Hermione said, holding the rolled up parchment out to him. He took it and read it quickly.

"Why do _I_ have to plan the ball?" he whined, flinging the notice on the rug. "I have better things to do."

"Like slobbering over that Slytherin whore," Hermione muttered before raising her voice so he could hear her. "It said we both have to do it."

"Well you can do it," Malfoy concluded, standing up and heading to his room. "I'm not getting involved."

"Grow up, you slimy ferret," Hermione scoffed to his retreating back.

She picked the notice it up from the floor and pinned it back on the board before going to her own room. She liked her bedroom; it was one of the few good things that came with being Head Girl with a git for a partner. Her bed was king-size with a deep red canopy and curtains around it. Her sheets were a pale gold with a lion stitched into it. Her pillow smelled exactly like her pillow back at home. She had a desk with bookshelves either side against one wall and a big mirror above a dressing table against another. The door to the shared bathroom was next to the dressing table, and a wardrobe was on the other side of the door. Hermione's nose wrinkled at the door to the bathroom. She didn't like having to share, as she'd usually have to wait for Malfoy to preen infront of the mirror for hours before she got to go in. Once one door was locked, both locked. It was a charm to stop them walking in on each other, but Malfoy preferred not to use the lock and she had seen more of him than she had intended a fair few times. She sat down on her bed and delved into her beside table to find her journal. She didn't write in it very often, but every now and then, usually while she was waiting for Malfoy to get out of the bathroom, she'd add something. Today she was going to write about the ball.

_Dear diary,_

_Dumbledore sent us a notice about an upcoming masquerade ball. I'm so excited! I love getting dressed up and I love it when Ginny does my hair and make up. I can't remember the last time we had a ball… But this year, I get to plan it! Well, I'm supposed to work on it with Malfoy but the git doesn't want to help, so I'll have to do it on my own. I _—

She looked up, distracted by Malfoy barging into her room from the bathroom. She snapped the journal shut and glared at him.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" she demanded, trying desperately to ignore that he was half naked with nothing but a towel around his waist.

"You Mudblood bitch, you've stolen my dye!" he shouted, pulling the drawers out from her dressing table and rummaging through them.

"Your dye? Why would I want bleach blonde hair dye?" she asked, scowling at him.

"It's not for my hair," he muttered, pulling her clothes out of her wardrobe now.

"Then why do you need dye if it's not for your hair?" Hermione asked, confused.

Malfoy turned to face her, his eyes still searching around the room for anywhere that he'd missed, and pulled his towel open. Hermione's eyes widened. So that's what he needed it for…

"Put it away, slime ball," she said, averting her eyes.

He was smirking at her, his silver eyes fixed upon her reddening face. She rolled her eyes at his trademark smirk as he pulled his towel around him again.

"Get a good look, did you Mudblood? Because that's a close as you're going to get to the real thing," he sneered. "Now tell me where you hid my dye."

"I didn't hide it, I didn't even know you dyed down there," she said, gesturing to the towel.

"Well, I'm a natural blonde, so why can't my p —"

"Shut up, I don't want to know. Now get out," Hermione snapped.

Malfoy stormed out the way he had stormed in, slamming the door in his wake. Hermione sighed. Working with him was going to take all her strength and willpower. She collapsed back on her bed, clutching her journal to her chest. She couldn't be bothered to write any more in it tonight and so she put it back in her bedside table. Listening to Malfoy slam around the bathroom looking for his precious dye, she drifted off to sleep.

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A/N: _First chapter and she's already seen his… Little Draco… heh… So review me and tell me how I've done. XD _


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: _This is rated M mostly for language, btw. I haven't planned much content… yet… Thank you for your reviews, they made me smile. :3 Keep reviewing! _

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Draco sighed heavily and sat down on his bed. Where had that bitch hidden his dye? He'd already raided her room but she claimed she didn't know about it. He'd have to go back to the secret stash in the Slytherin boys' dormitories. He'd always hidden a few bottles there in case something like this happened. But he needed to do it now, he'd arranged to meet Pansy before breakfast and she'd be disappointed if she knew he wasn't naturally blonde all over. And he didn't want her to see his roots. He decided he'd go and look for his stash in the Slytherin dorms. He pulled his school shirt and trousers on, not bothering with doing his buttons up on his shirt. He grabbed his wand from his desk and tapped himself over the head, shuddering as the feeling of ice pouring over his back spread over him. He looked at his hands and felt satisfied when he saw he was looking at the wooden floor instead of his fingers. He padded bare-foot out of the common room, careful not to wake Granger, and crept along the corridors until he reached the dungeons. He whispered the password and quickly snuck into the common room. He ran through the almost-crowded room to the boys' dormitories. As soon as he was in the dormitory, he dived under his old bed and pulled the loose floorboard up, grabbing a bottle of dye. As he crawled out from under the bed with very un-Malfoy like grace, he realised he could see the bottle through his invisible hands.

"Fuck!" he hissed. He'd forgotten he couldn't turn objects invisible, though this was supposedly easier than making a person invisible.

He tried cramming the bottle into his pocket and had to cover the top of it with his shirt when it poked out. His heart hammering at being discovered, he crept back to the common room. He dodged around people, trying not to be walked into. He spotted Pansy sitting in the corner, playing cards with Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise. As he passed them, he reached out and grabbed Pansy's butt. She jumped and leapt around to see who had touched her, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle looking confused. Stifling his laugh, he dodged out of the common room and raced back to the Heads' common room. As he passed a broom closet, he heard something fall over inside and someone hiss, "Shut up!"

His Head Boy instinct taking over, he decided to investigate. The closet door was slightly ajar and Draco peeked in. His eyes widened when he saw the Weaslette and the Boy Who Wouldn't Die making out inside. His stomach turned and he backed away. Did the Weasel know about this? He could use this for some serious taunting. He ambled back to the Heads' common room, thinking about how he could use this against Granger. But what if she already knew? She probably didn't, she was too busy with her books and homework to notice what was going on between her two best friends. Draco laughed bitterly as he stepped into the common room. The portrait swung shut behind him. He made his way to his bedroom and threw the bottle of dye down on the bed, before tapping himself over the head and shivering as the sensation of cold water pouring down his back swept over him, making him visible again. He picked the dye up and took it into the bathroom. He looked at Granger's door, and stood still for a minute. He could hear her breathing deeply and slowly from within. He shook his head, wanting to get back to what he was originally doing. Granger snuffled and the bed springs groaned quietly and she turned over. That was it; Draco was going to look at her. He was curious – he had never seen Granger asleep before. He rested his hand on the door handle, knowing that if his door was unlocked, so was hers. He quietly pushed the door open and peered in. Moonlight streamed from the gap between the curtains at the window, lighting a patch on the bed where Granger lay. She was still dressed and Draco assumed she'd fallen asleep before she'd gotten changed. He edged into the room, his eyes on Granger the whole time. She was on her side, cradling a book. It was the same one she'd been writing in when he barged into her room earlier. He sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to prise the book from her arms, but she wouldn't budge so he gave up trying in case he woke her. Draco didn't know how long he sat and watched Granger sleep, but he found himself drifting into a light doze every so often. He woke up slightly from one of these light dozes to find himself lying next to Hermione, her perfect sleeping face close to his. For some reason, he didn't want to move. He knew he should; his family would be enraged to find out he was in a Mudblood's bedroom, let alone lying next to her on her bed. Sleep numbed his thoughts and lulled him unconscious.

-

Hermione woke up with a start and made to stretch but found herself restricted by someone's arms. She wriggled around and found herself face to face with Malfoy. She yelped and shuffled back, forcing his arms off of her. Scrambling off of the bed, she stared at the sleeping Malfoy with wide eyes.

_What happened, what happened, what happened?! _she thought to herself.

She shut her eyes and placed the tips of her fingers on her temples, trying to remember everything that had happened the previous night. She'd been writing in her journal, and then Malfoy had stormed in, he'd shown her more than she'd bargained for and then he'd stormed back out again. Nothing had happened, right? She'd just fallen asleep with her journal in her arms.

Hermione opened her eyes again. Malfoy had rolled over on his back, his arms spread wide. Hermione noticed his shirt was undone. Her eyes traced over his defined stomach and chest before she caught herself.

_Stop it, Hermione! _she scolded herself. _Just get him out of your room!_

She gingerly poked his arm and his face twitched in response.

"Uh, Malfoy?" she said, shaking his arm. His skin was warm, which she was surprised at. She'd always assumed he was as cold as his heart. Malfoy grunted a little, his face pulling into a slight scowl – he didn't want to wake up.

"Wake up, you git," Hermione hissed, shoving his arm and forcing him to jolt awake.

"What? What happened?" he growled, his voice hoarse from lack of use over night. He blearily looked around and saw Hermione standing over him, looking worried.

"Nothing," Hermione replied. "At least, I don't think so."

"Why the hell are you in my room, Granger?" Malfoy asked, ruffling his hair and yawning. "And why the hell is everything in Gryffindor's colours?" Then his eyes widened.

"You're in my room, Malfoy," Hermione replied, folding her arms across her chest and sighing.

Malfoy leapt up, a scared look on his face. He ran to the door that linked their bathroom and charged through to his room, slamming the other door in his wake. Hermione rolled her eyes at his over-dramatic realisation. She sighed and sat down on her bed. The duvet was ruffled where she and Malfoy had been sleeping. She shuddered. Why the hell had he been in her bed? She smoothed the sheets out, pondering over this question. He was an arrogant, stuck-up ferret and also her sworn enemy, purely because his family was associated with Voldemort. He'd caused her and her friends a bit of grief around school, but she'd always risen above it. He was, after all, a lowlife, slimy scumbag, who just happened to be the Head Boy and therefore she had to spend most of her time with him. In short, Hermione hated him. She cast her eyes over the empty bed again and saw her journal, flung to one side. She thought about what she'd been writing in it. She'd have to start planning the ball today – there was so much to do – and so she'd have to ask Malfoy to help. Malfoy's sleeping face drifted into her mind. He'd looked at peace. She'd never seen him like that. His face was usually contorted into his trademark smirk or a scowl when things didn't go his way. She hadn't noticed how good looking he was. Of course, she knew that most of the female population of the school fancied the pants off of him, but she'd never been one to fall for looks alone. Personality was just as important in her books. And a good personality was something that Malfoy lacked. Sighing again, she stood up and changed out of her school uniform. She had free periods for the first two lessons of the day, and according to the clock on her bedside table, she'd just missed breakfast. She decided to go and find Ron and Harry and stay with them for a bit, desperate not to have to deal with Malfoy any more than she had to today.

-

Draco collapsed onto his bed. What had been thinking?! She'd woken up and found him lying next to her on her bed, of course she'd freaked out. Anyone would if they found the person they hated most in their bed. He cast his mind back to last night. He'd been watching her, he remembered that, and then he remembered seeing her face up close, slightly uncomfortable at the thought of being so close to her. Granger had a pretty face when she wasn't glaring at him. He covered his face with his hands and sighed. This wasn't going to go down well when his friends found out, let alone his parents. Knowing Granger, she'd tell the Weaslette and it'd be all over school like wildfire. Desperate to get out of the Heads' dorms, he quickly got changed. He had two free periods, like the Gryffindors, and wanted to go and see Pansy so he could set his mind back on the right tracks. He couldn't understand – he hated Granger. What had possessed him to watch her sleep? Even more so, what had possessed him to sleep next to her? Pulling on a clean shirt and quickly doing the buttons up, he fastened his tie around his neck, slipped into his socks and shoes, gelled his hair back to it's usual perfect style, grabbed his robes and walked as quickly and as naturally as possible out into the common room. Unfortunately, he had hurried out of his bedroom at the same time as Granger did. He froze, as did she. He was the first to move again.

"Malfoy, we need to talk," she said as he reached the portrait hole.

"What about, Granger?" he snapped, turning around to face her. Her face looked flushed and her hair a little bushier than usual, giving her the look of an embarrassed squirrel when coupled with the two front teeth that were gnawing at her bottom lip. Draco smirked to himself at this.

"About last night," she said, her voice so soft he almost didn't hear her. He suddenly panicked, rage flooding through him.

"Nothing happened," he grunted, his smirk turning to a scowl.

"Good, that's all I needed to hear," Granger said, sounding relieved. He turned to leave again but was stopped by Granger talking once more. "You need to help me with the plans for the ball tonight, Malfoy."

"I already told you, I'm not getting involved," he said, not bothering to even face her.

"But you have to," Granger said, again stalling him in his attempt to leave. "We're the Heads; we have to do these things together."

"Shut up, Mudblood. I'm not doing anything with you. Remember that," Draco snapped, climbing through the portrait hole and heading to the Slytherin common room. As he left, he heard Granger sigh loudly.

-

Hermione arrived back in the Heads' common room at six that evening. She'd avoided Malfoy all day, including in Potions when Snape tried to pair them up. She'd insisted that Neville needed help and he eventually let her pair up with him for fear of Neville blowing the dungeon up. Ron, who was stuck with Malfoy, sent a few 'Help Me' looks in her direction. In the end, he reluctantly agreed to chop some beetles up. Hermione grimaced apologetically at him as he sat, sulkily whacking at the beetles, completely at random.

Hermione flopped onto the sofa infront of the fire, trying to decide what to plan first. She had to tackle this ball more or less on her own – Malfoy wasn't going to help and that was the end of it. As she was pondering over which band she should hire to play, the portrait hole opened and Malfoy climbed in, his usual Malfoy haughtiness returned. Hermione couldn't believe he was the same boy who had looked so innocent and peaceful earlier that day.

"What are you looking at?" he barked, glaring at her. Hermione shook her head lightly and turned back around to look at the fire.

Malfoy stomped loudly to his room, making his presence definite so that Hermione found it impossible to pretend he wasn't there. She pulled a piece of parchment from her bag along with a quill and scribbled a quick note to all the possible bands that could play at the ball and then retired to her bedroom.

-

Draco sat down on the chair infront of his desk. His day had not been a good one. He'd started by going to see Pansy and she kept flopping all over him, playing at being a dependant, honest girlfriend when everyone who knew her name knew she was currently cheating on him with about seven other boys. That had pissed him off because he didn't like being touched and leant on constantly. Then he had to pair up with the idiot Weasel in Potions and had had house points deducted because the git had refused to help properly and the potion had just simmered and smoked vacantly when they presented it to Professor Snape. That had pissed him off even more. He'd then had double Transfiguration and just being around Gryffindors for that long had pissed him off. He folded his arms on his desk and rested his head on them. He knew he needed to help Granger with the stupid ball planning but he really, _really_ didn't want to. Balls weren't his cup of tea. His parents were always holding balls and he was forced to dance with several daughters of his parents' friends. Draco didn't like to dance, nor did he like being fawned over by twenty-seven ugly pre-teen girls all at once, contrary to common belief. Infact, Draco would rather have one stunningly pretty girl of his age at his side, rather than nearly thirty pug faced pre-teens. For some reason, Granger's face drifted into his mind.

_What the hell…? _he thought. _Why would she come to mind? _

Somewhere, deep down, Draco answered himself.

_Because she's pretty and you know it. You're just reluctant to admit __it because she's a Mudblood. _

Draco sighed. _Fuck off, conscience. _


End file.
